2002-05-08 | 4:56 p.m.

corduroy licorice liked to greet people with a "top of the morning." he wore different t-shirts depending on the time of day, and the a.m. shirt shift was his favorite. it usually involved faded rock 'n' roll tour shirts.

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funny how you can be walking along, minding your own business, when someone flapjacks a perception upon your self-image skillet, sans syrup.

today i was making small talk with a couple of female co-workers in the company kitchen when one of them began staring at my chest.

"those sequins on your top are mesmerizing," she smirked. "you can't help but look, well, you know." obviously she was referring to my boobular region. "i bet you wear that out to bars as a conversation starter."

"nictate always wears tops that make you look there," chimed in the other girl, one who hardly ever chimes in, as she slammed the refrigerator door shut. the chill i felt in the air wasn't from its leftover-jammed, insulated interior.

"wha-?" i stammered. "well, i don't do it on purpose."

"surrrrrrrre you don't," smirky said suspiciously, stirring her cloudy coffee.

chimy just giggled the laughter equivalent of "yeah, right. i'm buying that, missy sweetcakes," as she walked away.

i swear i don't pick out tops to call attention to my top. i swear!

i just like colorful, unique designs. there is no premeditation at all. it just so happens that by anatomical predestination, the breastesses take front and center attention on me and every other woman. why, that'd happen in a plain old pocket tee!

and it's not like i ever go the low-cut route. i rarely even v-neck it. i'm all about the modest scoop. geez louise brooks already!

i now stand falsely accused in the court of co-workers. my crime? belligerent bosom broadcasting.

i'm innocent, i tell you! guileless in every garment. well, except for the leopard print stuff.

heck, i don't even know how to spell t and a.

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